Central Avenue and Van Buren in 1972. Note the full block of businesses heading north to the Westward Ho. Central was still a two-way street.
No series of events better epitomized the 1970s and the turning point they marked in Phoenix than the fight over freeways, specifically the "inner loop" of the Papago Freeway.
Most Phoenicians had a vague idea that freeways were a possibility since the Wilber Smith & Associates plan was adopted in 1960. Interstate 10 had been completed to Tucson and was abuilding from the west. By mid-decade it had reached Tonopah, requiring a long drive over largely country roads to reach. Real-estate values plummeted along the path of the inner loop. But by 1970, Phoenix's freeway "system" consisted of only the Black Canyon (Interstate 17) which curved at Durango to become the Maricopa (I-10).
All this changed as the new decade opened and the plan's stark reality became clear. Specifically, the Papago would vault into the air, reaching 100 feet as it crossed Central Avenue. Traffic would enter and exit via massive "helicoils" at Third Avenue and Third Street. The freeway was promoted as being Phoenix's defining piece of architecture.
It didn't take Eugene Pulliam and the anti-freeway advocacy of the Arizona Republic and Phoenix Gazette to make most Phoenicians horrified. In 1973, voters vehemently rejected the inner loop. They only had to look 372 miles west to see the destruction wrought by freeways. They didn't want Phoenix to "become another Los Angeles."
I.
Growth had slowed down in the 1960s, with the city population increasing by only 32 percent (46 percent for the county), a big deceleration from more than 300 percent from 1950 to 1960. As a result, in 1970 much of the old city remained, as did its distinctive character, with citrus groves, farms and the Japanese flower gardens providing a buffer from the desert.
Agriculture was still big business. For example, citrus groves ran for miles in east Mesa and at Arrowhead Ranch. So, of course, was house-building, which was the exclusive province of local companies run by such moguls as John F. Long, John Hall, Ralph Staggs and Del Webb. The "clean industries" recruited after World War II were thriving: Motorola, AiResearch, Hughes Helicopters, Sperry Rand and Kaiser Aerospace. General Electric sold its computer operation at Black Canyon and Thunderbird Road to Honeywell. Greyhound was moving into its new tower at Rosenzweig Center in Midtown and city leaders expected more Fortune 500 headquarters would follow.
Even so, business was heavily local. The three big banks — Valley National, First National and the Arizona Bank — were all headquartered in Phoenix. So was Western Savings, one of the largest thrifts in the country. The grocery sector was dominated by A.J. Bayless, Frys and Bashas', all local. Lou Grubb was the low-key trustworthy car dealer, speaking from his book-lined "study." Tex Earnhardt was the country loudmouth. No matter — we felt as if we knew them. Importantly, all the media were locally owned.
Growth continued at a moderate pace in the 1970s. Phoenix was a largely middle-class city, heavily Anglo. The per-capita personal income of the metropolitan area was in line with the national average and would rise throughout the decade, despite the nasty recession that followed the 1973 oil embargo and the 1979 embargo. By the end of the decade, Phoenicians would be doing better than average (a very different situation from the decline that began in the late 1980s and has worsened since).
Most of the city's titans were still alive and a new generation of leaders were coming up, such as Karl Eller in business and Margaret Hance, Calvin Goode (right) and Rosendo Gutierrez in city politics.
The city had made some strides in addressing poverty, taking federal funds much to the displeasure of a vocal conservative minority. Still, neighborhoods from Roosevelt into south Phoenix suffered. Inequality remained stark. African-American and Mexican-American activism was on the rise in the late 1960s and hit its stride after 1970.
Chicanos por la Causa became a growing force. In 1972, Cesar Chavez held a 24-day fast at Santa Rita Hall on Hadley Street to protest a bill passed by the Legislature that blocked organizing efforts by farm workers. Alfredo Gutierrez was a student activist at ASU, then ran for state Senate the same year and won. In 1974, he became Majority Leader. Joe Eddie Lopez, another future state Senator, led marches and strikes, including one at Phoenix Union High School, where tensions were high between black and Latino students. At the same time, almost all the historic barrios and African-American neighborhoods were intact.
II.
Downtown was in trouble. Skyscrapers farther north on Central took away offices. Malls siphoned off much retail trade, although a few larger stores remained along Washington. Small business suffered the most as it lost foot traffic once generated by the department stores that had moved north to Park Central. Another problem: As vagrancy laws were struck down and city hall focused on other areas, the sidewalks outside small shops were often blocked by street people who once had been confined to the Deuce.
City and business efforts to revitalize the core turned from discussions to action in the 1970s. All three big banks built new headquarters buildings downtown, including Valley National Bank's Valley Center, the tallest building in the state. The city finally moved ahead with the longstanding plans for an auditorium and convention center called Phoenix Civic Plaza (the Civic Center was at Central and McDowell, with the library, Art Museum and little theater). To this was added a Hyatt Regency hotel with a revolving restaurant on the roof. The new projects, although largely soulless, took away several blocks of bars, single-room-occupancy hotels, pawn shops and other "unsavory" parts of the Deuce. The Deuce's occupants, as some had warned, scattered to nearby neighborhoods.
Part of this transformation was made possible by Phoenix's late arrival to urban renewal. The city had missed out on the big money in the 1960s because it couldn't pass a housing code. The law was opposed by both developers and African-American and Mexican-American leaders, the latter fearing that "slum clearance" would be used against minority property owners.
The code was finally approved in 1970 and some "slum clearance" began, often with unfortunate results. For example, the stately Fleming Building was torn down for the tan box of the First National headquarters (now Wells Fargo). Other buildings were demolished for new Greyhound and Trailways bus depots and a Fire Station No. 1. Another project was Patriot's Square, which required the destruction of many historic buildings. On the west end of the business district, the brutalist Phoenix Police Headquarters (originally intended as the headquarters for both police and fire) rose at Seventh Avenue and Washington. Another gift of the era was the hideous State Executive Tower behind the historic and perfectly scaled capitol building.
The most catastrophic loss was the Fox Theater, a masterpiece from the 1920s torn down in 1975. Another was the historic beaux-arts Hotel Adams, spectacularly imploded in 1973. Like its sisters, the Hotel Luhrs and Jefferson Hotel, the Adams had become little more than a flophouse. By the early 1970s, its east-facing neon sign had burned out so that it read HOT ADA S. We joked that it was a whorehouse. It was replaced with a new Hotel Adams, but built as a cold slab with little arches for windows. It remains today but the historic name was discarded for reasons I can't understand. The Westward Ho, once the queen of Phoenix hotels, soldiered on until 1980. Another icon, Union Station, survived the passing of passenger-train service to Amtrak in May 1971. The Sunset, the only train left, improved compared with operation by the anti-passenger Southern Pacific. But Congress refused the funding to restore daily service. So it remained the every-other-day train left by the SP and far from its days as the premier Sunset Limited.
By mid-decade, the heart of downtown had a bright new look, but with consequences. The old eight-steps-to-a-new-shop-door fabric of the central business district was replaced with blocks of dead space. The new buildings were sterile. Neon, which once made downtown a work of art at night, disappeared, including the revolving sign atop the old Valley Bank headquarters. The public spaces were sun-blasted and uninviting. Still, civic stewards donated public art to the massive space in front of Symphony Hall, the new home of the Phoenix Symphony and where the folk singer John Stewart would record his live Phoenix Concerts in 1974. One plus for history was the beginning of restoration work on the Rosson House.
The new buildings did not stop the underlying forces of downtown decline.
III.
The new Civic Plaza had a starring role in Clint Eastwood's 1977 shoot-em-up The Gauntlet. The movie was no Dirty Harry, lacking any potency or even cohesion. But segments give the viewer a sense of the central core. In the opening shot, Eastwood's detective character staggers out of a Deuce bar directly behind Symphony Hall, drives south across the Seventh Street rail overpass, west on Grant, north across the Seventh Avenue overpass, then west again to Symphony Hall, which was a stand-in for City Hall and the police headquarters.
My friends and I had much fun with this, wondering if the symphony was now playing at Police Headquarters. There was also the silly scene where the hero drives a bus down Adams Street with Phoenix cops blasting away (and being in each other's fields of fire) on the way to its climax. No matter. Eastwood was welcomed by city and state leaders and had a good time. In real life, Phoenix had a high crime rate.
A better cop movie to watch if you want a sense of what the outskirts of the city looked like in this era is Robert Blake's cult classic Electra Glide in Blue, from 1973. Much of it was filmed on two-lane Shea Boulevard surrounded by gorgeous empty desert.
It was difficult to argue with people who found Phoenix a cultural desert for a city its size. The Phoenix Art Museum was tiny (Jim Ballinger arrived as a curator in 1974). The Heard was respected but limited. The Symphony was still teething and often riven with internecine battles. Despite the fine theater program I benefited from in high school, Phoenix lacked a real professional theater company. There was the Windmill Dinner Theater, where Bob Crane was performing in 1978 when he was murdered in a lurid crime.
One of my ambulance colleagues, who had lived in real big cities, had a sticker on her tricked-out van (yes, those were popular then): "Phoenix Is Boring."
Not to the young yokel me, of course. ASU had a strong music program and a decent theater department. Cruising Central was still going strong. Midtown was hopping (right), including the Playboy Club. Big-name concerts came to Gammage and Celebrity Theater. The biggest show in town was the Phoenix Suns, playing at Veteran's Memorial Coliseum. In 1976, the "Cinderella Suns" made it to the finals against the Boston Celtics. It included the triple-overtime "greatest game ever played." Also, ASU was going big-time, joining the Pacific Athletic Conference in 1978.
Legend City was still in operation, our little Disneyland. The water park Big Surf opened. Mill Avenue had a bit of counterculture, KDKB played anti-establishment album rock, and New Times was a rollicking alternative newspaper. The Portofino Theater showed Deep Throat and other adult movies, in the brief period when such was considered date fare. Out at Taliesin West, Svetlana Alliluyeva — Stalin's daughter — was a visitor.
Everywhere the desert was near and inviting, provided one approached with respect. In high school, we launched model rockets in the miles of empty land southwest of Scottsdale and Bell roads, both two lanes wide. We hiked toward Pinnacle Peak and enjoyed target shooting. The High Country was wild and empty. You could hike and camp for days and not see another soul. Back in the city, my job on the ambulance was never boring.
IV
The decade saw some of Phoenix's biggest strides in preservation of natural space. In the 1960s, defeated presidential candidate Barry Goldwater came home and was disgusted with the runaway development threatening Camelback Mountain. He led the crusade — everything from schoolchildren's coins to federal dollars — to save the mountain above 1,800 feet.
In the 1970s, city leaders purchased Echo Canyon. They also used bonds and federal revenue sharing from the Nixon administration, as well as several nasty court suits, to save Piestawa Peak and assemble the Phoenix Mountain Preserve. One of the leaders of the preservation effort was a civic volunteer and new council member named Margaret Hance.
Elected mayor in 1975, Hance would come to dominate city politics — but first she put the stake in dying Charter Government.
The reformist, consensus-based "businessman's government" that began in the 1940s unraveled in the late '60s when Milt Graham, who had been a popular young mayor, decided to break Charter's two-term rule and seek a third term. Even though the Charter slate prevailed, installing John Driggs as mayor at the start of the new decade, Charter itself was dying. The city had grown too big. The consensus of a common good, as the business leaders saw it, was gone. Phoenix actually had George Wallace's far-right American Independent Party fielding candidates against Charter. Hance famously stepped outside the "Charter slate" and won.
What she won, and how much changed, is one of the less examined features of this era politically in Phoenix. Like most of her former Charter mates, she was Republican and "pro-business." If anything, she was more conservative than Graham on social services. Phoenix continued to be a well-run, "efficient" city. For example, by the 1970s, all the areas annexed in the 1950s and early 1960s that used cesspools were connected to the city sewer system. Vision was another matter. The broken machine of leadership was never the same. Hance (above) had little interest in the central core or transit, little vision beyond preserving the mountains. Transit was so abysmal that there was no Phoenix Transit connection to Tempe. No bus service on Sunday. Nor was anything done to preserve the fragile historic neighborhoods north and west of downtown with their priceless architecture and design.
To be fair, even with higher gasoline prices and the environmental movement, few people beyond Jane Jacobs and her acolytes understood the value of dense, quality, human-scale cities, good civic design, historic preservation or transportation options. Downtowns were in decline everywhere. Phoenix, with its abundant land, malls, new houses and easy parking for single-occupancy car trips seemed to many the city of the future. When the city was still small enough, metaphorically, to hold in your hand, it wasn't an outlandish notion.
In reality, the old leadership that had brought Phoenix this far was weakening and in some cases literally dying. Although some promising newer leaders emerged, there were not enough to replace the titans of the late 1940s through the mid-1960s. When the Phoenix 40 was formed in 1975, it was an attempt at formalizing, and even broadening, the old leadership. How much it was actually able to accomplish in the long run is debatable. In the 1970s, it seemed laudable civic stewardship — or deplorable paternalism, depending on where you sat.
Amid the winding down and ultimate loss of the Vietnam War, Watergate and the resignation of Nixon, Arizona was undergoing change, too. Jack Williams, the Republican former Phoenix mayor, served a tiresomely long eight years as governor. Voters were ready for change in 1974, when they voted for Democrat Raul Castro. Even my rock-ribbed Republican mother voted for "Judge Castro," as she called him. Yet that was the trouble. Castro had a judge's temperament and was bored being governor. He leapt at becoming Jimmy Carter's ambassador to Argentina in 1977. He was followed briefly by longtime Secretary of State Wes Bolin and then Bruce Babbitt, Democrats all.
V
I was told that the mob kept a resort near Camelback called Journey's End. I never found out if that was true, but Phoenix remained a haven for organized crime. Indeed, the unspoken truce between the mob and Phoenix's leaders, or the porous boundary between the two that such respectable figures as Barry Goldwater and Del Webb could easily cross — whatever you wish to call it, seemed to be breaking down. In forming the Phoenix 40, Pulliam warned against a new wave of crime, corruption and land fraud amid widespread apathy.
The amped up character of things was impossible to avoid in the '70s. In October 1975, a bomb detonated in the car of Joseph Nardi in Tempe. This was not his real name. He had been relocated to Arizona after cooperating with the FBI against the mob in Chicago. It was the most stunning, but far from the only, wise-guy stunts happening at the time in Phoenix. Then, on June 2, 1976, Republic investigative reporter Don Bolles was struck by a car bomb outside the Clarendon House hotel in Midtown. He died on June 13th.
The crime has never been explained to my satisfaction, or to that of many others. The Arizona Project of Investigative Reporters and Editors didn't answer who ultimately ordered the hit. But it did provide days of coverage about Arizona sleaze in newspapers around the country, even if the Republic declined to run it (New Times did). In my David Mapstone Mystery, The Bomb Shelter, I offer a plausible scenario about the assassination played out. Although the book is fiction, I spent dozens of hours interviewing key investigators of the Bolles case and organized crime in Phoenix.
VI
Change came slowly enough, but it came. The semi-rural area between Thomas and Osborn in Scottsdale filled in, while the city redid its declining core with a new city hall, library and police station. A fancy Hilton was built at Scottsdale Road and Lincoln Drive, with nothing around and no curbs or sidewalks for miles on Scottsdale Road.
At the beginning of the decade, Rural Road in Tempe became just that about a mile below Apache Boulevard, quickly turning to two narrow lanes of patched concrete. Within a few years, it was the site of The Lakes, a massive new development that marked a transition between the old mass-produced housing of Long et al and "master planned communities."
On the other side of I-10, Presley Development began work on Ahwatukee. Tempe didn't think it wanted what became "the world's largest cul-de-sac"; Phoenix annexed it. In Scottsdale, McCormick Ranch changed from being a real ranch to becoming an ambitious residential-golf development. And so it went. Among the most astounding was Metrocenter, which opened in 1973 at the far end of north Phoenix, mostly surrounded by nothing.
Watching all this, I couldn't help the feeling that something was deeply wrong — and remember, my experience with the outside world was nil. Why was the first "super-regional mall" in the Southwest being built out on the fringes, requiring much driving, while too much (already) of the convenient central core was empty? But then I was from the heart of the city. I suspect most went with the flow.
Fountain Hills, which began in 1971, was the most egregious. It was not connected to any city or town, even though it would affect the metropolitan area with costs and traffic. McCulloch, the same developer that did Lake Havasu City, used heavy handed tactics at the Legislature to gain bonding power, even though it had no residents yet. Its use of water was not to maintain an oasis or grow food in the ancient river valley; it was a sales tool wasting a precious resource. Worst of all, McCulloch bulldozed one of the most beautiful saguaro forests.
Back in Phoenix, where planning had never been a strength, the city tried to put lipstick on the pig of skyscrapers that had escaped from downtown — and prevent development of more east of Seventh Street — by adopting the Central Corridor. It was officially to be the only place where towers could be built. Nevermind that in a low-rise city where views of the mountains were seen as a democratic right did a wall of tall buildings seem appealing. It was as realistic as the "urban village" (huh?) concept and the promise that the city would never grow north of two-lane Bell Road.
All this was happening in a relatively slow-growth decade by Phoenix standards. Now it's clear we were watching the birthing of the Real Estate Industrial Complex and an economy based on bringing in enormous population to fill all those houses and malls. By contrast, John F. Long was a Phoenix city councilman and steward who built houses to meet a need. The new breed, knowing the Central Arizona Project was on the way, were only getting started with sprawl, hustles and the throwaway community.
Charles H Keating Jr. and Fife Symington arrived in 1976.
VII.
The Phoenicians who rejected the Papago Freeway inner loop were wise. I-10 could have joined the Maricopa Freeway at the Durango Curve and many hundreds of valuable historic houses could have been saved. The massive gash through central Phoenix could have been avoided. Remember, I-10 has done central Phoenix no more good than any freeway has done for any city core in America. They are all about destruction and sucking the life out. Portlanders understood this when they canceled the Mount Hood Freeway in 1974.
Phoenix could have done this and no more — and accomplished a great thing.
But it was not in Phoenix's DNA. This was, after all, a city that for more than a decade could not even pass a housing code requiring such wild novelties as indoor plumbing. Here the city staff was pernicious, especially Ed Hall, the anti-transit transportation chief and later deputy city manager. Also, years of expecting the freeway had caused the neighborhoods to lose residents who would have had clout. Finally, Pulliam died and the newspapers stopped crusading against the inner loop.
Meanwhile, lack of land-use planning for decades was catching up to Phoenix. As people moved farther out (e.g. north of Indian School), traffic became worse. The city's street-widening couldn't keep up and had the double whammy of turning modest city streets into today's wide highways. At the same time, council and most business interests remained against transit and against higher residential densities. No wonder voters rebelled against a grid plan in 1979.
The lack of alternatives, vision and political will made freeways inevitable. Not only the inner loop, softened only a bit by a deck park, but an entire system. And paid for with a regressive sales tax. In turn, they would make far-out land then useful only for agriculture suddenly very valuable for subdivisions — for the connected. They would suck the life out of the city.
None of us knew how bad it would be. I did notice, as the decade wore on, how dirty the air was becoming. And how the weather was changing, with monsoon rain often staying out of the city. I left as the decade wound down, never thinking I would return, even though I would always carry Phoenix in my heart, particularly the old city.
Around that time, I was reading a John D. McDonald novel where Travis McGee reflects on the changes inflicted on his beloved Fort Lauderdale and says something like, "I saw the best of it." And of my beloved Phoenix I did, too.
Gallery — Phoenix in the seventies (click photo for larger image):
Thriving Midtown, with Park Central Shopping Center in the middle of the photo. The tall First Federal tower, right, sported an outside elevator to the top floor, a place where more than a few trysts took place. It's shorter little brother had a Playboy Club on the roof.
Midtown from street level, Central and Indian School and the grille of an Oldsmobile coming at us. Phoenix leaders hoped to make Central into another Wilshire Boulevard. The 1990 crash, competition from sprawl, and the death of the core's major headquarters ended that dream.
Another view south on Central. This is the backside of the "punchcard building," headquarters of Western Savings. It was meant to have a twin tower to the north.
Metrocenter, the first regional mall in the Southwest, in 1975, surrounded by mostly empty land.
Demolition of the historic Adams Hotel in 1973. The ornate building was replaced by an uninviting box and soon the Adams name was dropped.
The southeast corner of Central and Van Buren in 1970. Soon these buildings will be gone and the state's tallest skyscraper, Valley Center, will rise.
First and Monroe streets looking west circa 1971. On the left is the Professional Building with the Valley National Bank's revolving neon sign on top. Beyond that is the Arizona Title and Trust Building (1964), the first high rise to be constructed downtown since the Great Depression. On the right is the site of Valley Center, soon to be headquarters of VNB and beyond that the Hotel San Carlos (Brad Hall collection).
Valley Center at two stages of construction. Like most newer buildings, it was dead at street level — made more so by a design to foil bank robbers. A block-long parking garage took out dozens of businesses a block east and was connected to the tower by an underground tunnel (Jeremy Butler photos).
The Golden Eagle Restaurant on the 37th floor of Valley Center (Brad Hall collection).
Seventh Avenue and Van Buren, circa 1971. This is where Grand Avenue begins northwest. If you look carefully you can see a Helsings coffee shop behind the gas station (Arizona Memory Project photo).
Central and Roosevelt in 1971, with a Gulf station, KOY's studios and a Bulova clock, and the steel skeleton of Valley Center going up half a mile away (Brad Hall collection).
Coming into downtown at 18th Street and Van Buren shows several elements of the era: Small buildings occupied by businesses, billboards, a street sweeper, and landscaped parking lawn at far right (Brad Hall collection).
Sixteenth and Roosevelt streets circa 1970. Like most major arterials, 16th Street was only two lanes in each direction (Brad Hall collection).
The 1970s also saw both bus companies build new depots downtown. Phoenix was Greyhound's corporate headquarters (at Rosenzweig Center in Midtown).
The Ramada Inn at 401 N. First Street in downtown Phoenix (Brad Hall collection).
Construction of Phoenix Civic Plaza swept away several blocks of the Deuce. It failed to revitalize downtown. The name was intended to differentiate it from the Phoenix Civic Center, with the main library, art museum, and little theater, at McDowell and Central.
Symphony Hall, part of Civic Plaza, under construction in 1972.
The new downtown built in the decade. From left, First National Bank tower, Symphony Hall, Arizona Bank tower, Hyatt Regency, Valley Center, and Phoenix Civic Plaza's convention center. Plenty of dullness, brutalism, and dead blocks.
Civic Plaza's public space looking west. Although it offered a grand view of Symphony Hall (looking south), the expanse had too much concrete and not enough shade trees to ever succeed as a public space. Civic Plaza replaced blocks of walkable businesses in the "disreputable" Deuce.
The Frank Snell Fountain at Phoenix Civic Plaza (Brad Hall collection).
Brutalist architecture defined the new Hyatt Regency (Patricia Mathus photos).
The majestic Fox Theater was demolished in 1975. This city bus terminal replaced it on Block 23 of the original townsite. The white tower behind it, left, is the Arizona Bank headquarters, another new building of the decade. So is the new Hotel Adams, right.
Something old, something new: The postcard shows remains of the old central business district, including Kress and Lerner Shops, across the barren expanse of new Patriot's Square. Despite a facelift, the project never worked. Historic buildings that might have been saved, as at Denver's Larimer Square, were demolished. In the 2000s, it was replaced with the CityScape mixed-use development.
The above four photos show demolition for Patriot's Square and some of the businesses that were lost (City of Phoenix and CityData photos).
Among the casualties of the new downtown was its neon, including the iconic Valley National Bank sign, taken down when the bank moved its headquarters to Valley Center. The sign went to a junk yard as scrap.
Wide Washington Street looking west from Third Street in 1977. On the left is some of the last of the Deuce, along with the J.C. Penney Store.
Barely saved, the Rosson House at Sixth Street and Monroe.
A poignant photo of George Luhrs Jr. at Central and Jefferson, Christmas season 1973. The hotel his father built in 1888 looks more beautiful than the new Valley Center, but in two years it would be gone.
Civic Plaza (specifically Symphony Hall) stood in for City Hall and police headquarters in Clint Eastwood's 1977 movie The Gauntlet. Here, Eastwood shares lunch on set with first lady Pat Castro and co-star Sondra Locke.
A staged wreck of police cars at Fourth Avenue and Madison for The Gauntlet. Although PPD officers worked as extras, these vehicles are ahistorical — Phoenix never had black-and-whites.
A lesser-known movie filmed in Phoenix in 1979 was "Love and Bullets." Here's star Charles Bronson playing Detective Charlie Congers outside John C. Lincoln Hospital.
Robert Blake and partner in "Electra Glide in Blue," which features some unspoiled scenes on a two-lane Shea.
Bob Hope at the Phoenix Open. In those days, it was played at the oasis of the Phoenix Country Club.
The Phoenix Zoo entrance in the 1970s (Brad Hall collection).
The Phoenix Suns were the only pro team in town. Here they are at the "Madhouse on McDowell" — Veterans Memorial Coliseum — playing the Golden State Warriors in 1979.
Big Surf in 1972. The Tempe water park opened in 1969 and hit its stride in the 1970s. This was taken before a Pink Floyd concert.
Bowling alleys were once ubiquitous in Phoenix. Here's the Tempe Bowl on Apache Boulevard.
Camelback Road and 44th Street in the early 1970s. In the lower-center is the Valley National Bank branch designed by architect Frank Henry of Weaver & Drover, with its advanced "dendriform column."
Camelback and Seventh Street, with the Barron Drugs right on the sidewalk instead of surrounded by a parking lot (Brad Hall collection).
At Rural Road in Tempe, The Lakes subdivision is being carved out of former farmland.
Cudahy's rendering of the Valley of the Sun in the 1970s. Click to see a larger version.
Downtown in 1972. The Civic Plaza is complete and Valley Center is topped off. Much of the Deuce, south of the Civic Plaza, remains intact.
Looking north on Central with new skyscrapers (left-to-right) for the First National Bank of Arizona, the Arizona Bank, and Valley Center, headquarters of Valley National Bank. In front of Valley Center is the "cheese grater" architecture of the new Hotel Adams with the Hyatt Regency to the right (Patricia Matus collection).
The roof of Veterans Memorial Coliseum painted for the bicentennial (Brad Hall collection).
———————————————————————————
My book, A Brief History of Phoenix, is available to buy or order at your local independent bookstore, or from Amazon.
Read more Phoenix history in Rogue's Phoenix 101 archive.
A trip down memory lane. Thank you.
Posted by: Richard Rea | November 04, 2014 at 03:01 AM
I spent the early 1970s in Tucson (UofA) and then left for Denver for a few years. I returned to Phoenix in 1977. There was still a real downtown then despite the steady attrition of retail to new shopping centers. Hanny's and Switzer's were still open, as were Newberry's and Woolworth's. Just think: there were more places to shop then than there is now despite the assurances that downtown Phoenix is "world-class" (see: Marty Shultz).
Still, the past was on life-support and by the early 1980s it was almost all gone. Even Denver, which had excellent bones and big-city urban fabric nearly lost its real-world downtown. Tucson had a vibrant downtown up until the mid 70s but struggles today even with its great new streetcar. This question always looms in my mind: why did this country kill its soul for the sake driving everywhere and EZ parking? All you car-loving patriots, answer me that.
Freeways were the worst thing to happen to America, acts of such sweeping civic devastation that it destroyed the primary reason to live in actual community. We killed the America Dream in pursuit of its evil twin, autocentric sprawl. The damage is systemic and, for most of the country, irremediable.
Tucson and Denver opened my heart much as Phoenix had closed it. Yes, those cities were on their own suicide missions but I saw enough of the past to realize how glorious it had been. The joy I felt was not merely some quirk of my feverish imagination. Today, the back-to-the-city movement is one of the most salient developments in our woebegone nation. People are hungry for beauty, connection, and one another. Good cities are economically more vibrant, valued, and environmentally responsible. Yes, they are too expensive because there are far too few of them.
Only in America would we think driving to the edge of sprawl to find nature somehow redeems a noble impulse in us. No, driving is the reason nature is now so remote and strange. Cities are as rational as sprawl is insane. Good cities mean more wilderness. More boomburbs mean wilderness reduced and stressed.
The Phoenix bird is self-immolating from its own hubris and blindness. Metrocenter is the emblem of its despair. We did this and continue to do this because we're told that consumption is the only way to measure our self-worth. Political toxicity is a function of this nightmare. Extremism in defense of a delusion is no vice! Chasing this chimera comes as a very price, unfortunately. You won't find happiness in a McMansion anymore than you will with an electronic community of racist birdbrains.
The 1970s showed us a past worth preserving just as it was inexorably destroying it. Phoenix might be this nation's best example of this pain-wracked irony. In 1975, the Fox Theater, perhaps the most glorious public space in Phoenix, was torn down for a bus depot. The new historic-preservation movement was active in better cities like Denver, Portland, New York, San Francisco, and Seattle. Phoenix was still flying high above the clouds then, determined to find the promised land in a place without the visual reminders of its once-fertile ashes.
Posted by: soleri | November 04, 2014 at 07:13 AM
372 miles west.
Posted by: Paul Benjamin | November 04, 2014 at 08:14 AM
As mentioned in the article, Phoenix did have a high crime rate in the 70's. The cops did wear helmets. Back in the 60's and 70's the cops were tough, but they were also pretty cool.
I was a wild and reckless biker and had a lot of interaction with them. We were stopped a lot. The thing that is different is that they were not afraid like a lot of them are now. You could go back and forth, argue, joke or even be verbally abusive. They were tougher in a way. It was more laid back in the 70's and you could get away with a lot more. Never once had a cop pull a gun on me. There was just a lot more freedom back then in Phoenix.
Posted by: Vince Benz | November 04, 2014 at 11:00 AM
There are new comments on the previous post, fyi.
Posted by: Rogue Columnist | November 04, 2014 at 03:17 PM
Election open thread on the previous post...
Posted by: Rogue Columnist | November 04, 2014 at 07:37 PM
Side note: two new comments, here:
http://www.roguecolumnist.com/rogue_columnist/2014/10/national-suicidereally.html
(Why Republican control of the Senate likely means a continuance of political gridlock and not much conservative agenda success; and a comment to INPHX about the local bully, soleri.)
Posted by: Emil Pulsifer | November 04, 2014 at 07:39 PM
Uruguay is looking really good.
Is bulling a robot a civil rights violation?
Posted by: cal Lash | November 04, 2014 at 11:31 PM
WKG I have posted on suicide regarding your comment on Emil
and on the state of the Nation
Posted by: cal Lash | November 05, 2014 at 09:22 AM
This will never happen in Arizona.
Washington State has become the first state ever to close the background check loophole by popular vote.
Posted by: cal Lash | November 05, 2014 at 09:28 AM
@Soleri: re “All you car-loving patriots, answer me that.” I wouldn’t call me car-loving, but I couldn’t imagine living without one. The only thing worse than be car-dependent is being transit-dependent.
First, a little personal history: I have lived in Washington (’48-63), Cocoa, Florida (’63-66). Gainesville, Florida (‘66-71), Tokyo (‘71-74), Atlanta (‘74-90), and Birmingham (‘90-Present). The only cities I am somewhat familiar with are Atlanta, Birmingham and Orlando.
Like most boomers, I grew up in the burbs. I’ve never lived in a household that didn’t have a car (except Tokyo – I was as E3 in the Navy and couldn’t afford one). The burb/car lifestyle seems natural to me. Tried high-rise condo/downtown for a couple of years in Atlanta and hated it. My 20 minute commute rule has resulted in my living in mostly in-town neighborhoods. I have tried transit on occasion for commuting to work and found it to suck.
Regarding the burbs and freeways: In Washington at least, the burbs were well established before the development of freeways/interstates.I think this true for most of the Northeast. In the ‘50’s it would take us all day to travel from Washington to Boston to see my Mom’s folks.
I think most of us think of getting from here to there as a cost/convenience matter. It’s nothing ideological.
With regard to Phoenix: I have been unable (via goggle street view) to find an in town neighborhood I would want to live in.
@Cal: I have no problem with Emil attacking Soleri"s ideas; but I do have a problem with making it personal.
Posted by: wkg in bham | November 05, 2014 at 10:08 AM
but wkg i Like it when Emil demonstrates human feelings and emotions. and i believe like with me it feels really good to push the send button.
Posted by: cal Lash | November 05, 2014 at 10:24 AM
@Cal: people can disagree without being disagreeable.
Posted by: wkg in bham | November 05, 2014 at 10:31 AM
WKG I agree wit U.
but ur missing my Punto aqui!!!!
Posted by: cal Lash | November 05, 2014 at 10:48 AM
wkg, I recognize that cars are the default transportation mode in this country. I'm not evangelizing against them so much as wanting people to understand the cost they exact in terms of our built environment. Being from Phoenix, I knew that cost all too well even as I continued to drive myself. I cannot imagine living in Phoenix without a car although some intrepid souls actually do.
Your car or my car is not the problem. But when virtually everyone drives, what results are degraded communities, ugly drive-by architecture, unwalkable neighorhoods, loss of authentic character and local retail, and a slackening of vital civic impulses where citizens involve themselves in city life. Good cities show love. Bad cities show anomie and disconnection.
The most obvious example here would be Los Angeles. It had been a real city with excellent mass transit at one time. But by the 1950s, freeways sliced the city in multiple parts and the city's character suffered as a result. The city was no longer scaled to the pedestrian but to the car. It not only lost its charm, it suffocated itself, literally and figuratively, on car fumes. Today, the damage is so extensive that it's impossible to imagine a lovable city although it's still amazing in its pieces. Downtown is resurgent thanks to excellent bones and good transit nodes. But the city as a whole is fairly miserable. You can't retrofit a sprawl town. It's simply too expensive and the public would be too exhausted financially to even consider it.
Phoenix copied LA with predictable results. It, too, has some attractive pieces but the city feels unloved as a whole. Downtown is weak as is the central city. Retrofitting this blob with adequate transit is next to impossible although some marginal improvements may occur. Phoenix ignored a cautionary tale about freeways and sprawl and ended up in worse shape than LA itself.
There are good cities in this country, but most people don't live in them but around them. They shop in malls and stand-alone boxes like Wal-Mart. They drive to work through streets that are horrifyingly ugly or so bland as to be inert. This is America. This is our civilization. Outrage about this state of affairs would be appropriate. Instead, we focus on ginned-up culture war "issues" that distract us from our real need - communities we love and, in return, love us.
James Howard Kunstler would be the best person to read on this subject, particularly The Geography of Nowhere. Kunstler is not to everyone's taste, not even mine. He's a kind of Old Testament Jeremiah railing against the sins of autocentric development and its soul-killing artifacts. You, I believe, would get this better than most people. You might not sell your car but you'd understand the tragedy of American civilization in compelling detail.
Posted by: soleri | November 05, 2014 at 11:47 AM
Since Metrocenter is part of this post, here's some news: it's about to become an open-air mall:
http://www.bizjournals.com/phoenix/print-edition/2014/10/31/exclusive-metrocenter-to-go-open-air.html
Here's the rest of the story behind the subscription wall:
Turning the aging mall into a vibrant mixed-use urban center, the concept for developing Metrocenter adds residential, the northwestern terminus of the Metro light rail line and an open-air shopping district. The Carlyle Development Group’s concept for reinvigorating the mall would keep it within reach of its market.
When Carlyle Development Group acquired Metrocenter in 2012, the company's first move was to apply lipstick to the aging and half-empty mall. Simply sprucing up one of the Valley's elder shopping centers was not the endgame for the New York-based development company. That goal is close to being unveiled.
One major renovation — a reinvigoration of the entire property — may involve removing portions of the enclosed mall and replacing it with an open district similar to San Tan Village and Kierland Commons. The plan is to create a setting that will embrace the local market.
Metrocenter is succeeding in serving the changing demographics of its region, and the result is a 73 percent occupancy
rate. The stores are a mix of national retailers and locally owned businesses. In addition, Carlyle made space available to community service groups to provide services to shoppers. Today, the mall is a mix of food courts and Macy's, the Maricopa County Humane Society and Dillard's.
Now the vacant J.C. Penney store is about to come down, and this fall a Walmart Superstore will go up. The addition of the Valley's largest retailer will be the first step in transforming the mall.
"This is our current concept, but it's the direction we're heading," said Warren Fink, COO of Carlyle. "We're seeing our planned-unit development approval this fall coinciding with the Walmart construction."
Carlyle's efforts may be the first thrust into the future of enclosed shopping malls. Just as Scottsdale Fashion Square is expanding its shopping footage and adding a major Harkins theater upgrade as a new anchor, Metrocenter sees its future as a mixed-use urban center for its area.
"We want to bring the new outdoor shopping and living experience to a scale that serves our customers," said Fink. "The redevelopment district helps us find ways to do that. We're working with the city on refining the concept."
Phoenix recently approved a redevelopment area for Metrocenter and its surrounding commercial and residential areas. Carlyle and other owners are jumping on the opportunity, Fink said.
The current concept shows the addition of midrise offices, multifamily residential and medical office buildings. Fink said owners of adjoining Class B and C office properties are planning upgrades to make them more attractive for leasing.
The real plum for Metrocenter is the second phase of the Metro light rail extension, which will end at a new transit center adjoining the mall. The northwest extension from 19th and Dunlap avenues to 25th Avenue and Mountain View Road is under study.
Although the extension is scheduled for completion in 2026, Mayor Greg Stanton said he hopes Phoenix's citizen transportation committee will find funding to move the project up to the immediate future.
Posted by: soleri | November 05, 2014 at 02:18 PM
Some new comments analyzing the Republican agenda in the wake of their Senate win, here:
http://www.roguecolumnist.com/rogue_columnist/2014/10/national-suicidereally.html
Also, bad news for Phoenix construction jobs in a new comment, here:
http://www.roguecolumnist.com/rogue_columnist/2014/10/better-than-nothing.html
Posted by: Emil Pulsifer | November 05, 2014 at 07:45 PM
wkg wrote:
"I have no problem with Emil attacking Soleri"s ideas; but I do have a problem with making it personal."
Yes, people can, but soleri has a hard time of it, particularly when he has no substantive response. His habit of ad hominem has resulted in my loss of patience. Please direct your criticism of personal remarks towards soleri, where it belongs.
Posted by: Emil Pulsifer | November 05, 2014 at 07:50 PM
@Soleri: An excellent point – “The city was no longer scaled to the pedestrian but to the car. It not only lost its charm, it suffocated itself, literally and figuratively, on car fumes. Today, the damage is so extensive that it's impossible to imagine a lovable city although it's still amazing in its pieces.”
This has been my main problem with Phoenix: the streets are too wide and many of them are one way. Also, too much of it was built at pretty much the same time.
As I have said many times, I can’t find a single neighborhood in Phoenix I would want to live in – a metro of almost 5,000,000 people! If readers have a place in mind – please provide GPS co-ordinates.
Here’s my idea of what makes a good neighborhood. It should consist of mostly single family houses with a scattering of flats. It should be within comfortable walking distance of a commercial area. What’s comfortable depends on the terrain – something on the order of a half-mile to a mile. The commercial area should have a sports bar, a café, a bookstore, a ”meat-and-three” restaurant, an Italian joint with good take-out pizza, a Mexican joint, etc. The schools should be good enough that there are kids in the neighborhood. Get ready to fire away: it should be mostly white. A black person or an Hispanic would probably have the same view but with a different demographic. People of working age should be employed at something.
The lot sizes should be ¼ acre or larger. Any smaller and nature gets squeezed out. Oddly enough, animals like the same sort of stuff we like looking at.
Posted by: wkg in bham | November 06, 2014 at 12:14 AM
WKG: You don't want to move to Arizona, the Apaches will get you.
Posted by: Pat | November 06, 2014 at 05:59 AM
WKG: I think there are some places in the metro area that might meet your standards, but you'd have to be more specific:
1: Would a few Mexicans be tolerable if they all go away after the houses are cleaned and the lawns are mowed?
2: Does the commercial area absolutely have to be posted against coloreds?
3: Are a few Jews going to be okay with you? Are they still Jews if they're Jews For Jesus?
Posted by: Pat | November 06, 2014 at 07:31 AM
wkg I have the perfect place for you based on your info and the following descriptions by Pat.
Sun City West. All white and Republican and they allow kids to visit in the day light.
Posted by: cal Lash | November 06, 2014 at 10:30 AM
Pretty much the reaction I was expecting. Sorry. I'm being realistic - not liveing in some fantasy world.
More specifics: most residents would be working to middle classs in terms of income/affluence. They would cut their grass and clean their own houses.
And I can't stress this enough - of all age groups. And of all races - but mostly white.
Posted by: wkg in bham | November 06, 2014 at 01:17 PM
And the streets should be on a grid system; with most of them being narrow, slow and low capacity - as much for walking as driving.
There should be apartments builings abutting the commercial area.
Posted by: wkg in bham | November 06, 2014 at 01:25 PM
@wkg...
Perhaps the more well traveled (or you) can help me out...is there anywhere that exists that fits the description of what you are looking for? I've never seen it, but there are a lot of places I have not been.
Posted by: 100 Octane | November 06, 2014 at 02:21 PM
In Birmingham, there are at least five neighborhoods that - more or less - match the description. GPS provided on request. Let me stress that 95% of the metro is not this at all.
Atlanta has at least two that I am familiar with (Litte Five Points and Virginia Highlands)
Orland has at least one (Park Ave area of Winter Park)
I think any of the readers here would like to live in these neighborhoods.
Posted by: wkg in bham | November 06, 2014 at 02:40 PM
WKG: And will you be wanting a long, lovely promenade, where the young gentleman can squire his belle on a soft summer's eve, far from the wretched coarseness of this brutal war of aggression? Maybe a contented old darky to skip along behind, holding the young lady's parasol? Sigh, my eyes do positively mist at the notion.
Posted by: Pat | November 06, 2014 at 02:52 PM
WKG, Is there any quiet desert near those neighborhoods y mention?
I am glad to hear you are prescient.
Excuse me but I ma not smart enough to understand youe race as I am confused with your remarks about white.
What your point?
Please expian in simple terms
Posted by: cal Lash | November 06, 2014 at 03:33 PM
WKG, you could find that in the historic districts downtown, close to McDowell and Central or McDowell and Seventh Avenue. Also on Seventh Avenue and Campbell. Also near 40th Street and Campbell. You can look up the GPS.
Posted by: Rogue Columnist | November 06, 2014 at 04:20 PM
@Cal: no deserts within a thousand miles. Plenty of creeks though.
Nature in southeast different than Arizona. Aside from very large animals like deer, the neighborhoods above are up to there ass in nature. Wildlife just loves to eat the things we plant on purpose to look at. Extept for mowed grass which is a natural dead zone. The animals love to eat unmowed grass and their seed heads.
Lately two invaders from the west/southwest: armadillos and cyotes.
@Pat: except for costume parties, Rhett and Scarlett haven't been seen in these parts for 50 years.
@Rogue: thanks. I take another look. You recommended a neighborhood a while ago that I took a look at. Liked the houses but not the nearby commercial area.
Posted by: wkg in bham | November 06, 2014 at 04:47 PM
WGK your world makes me sneeze. and I'm into brown not
Posted by: cal Lash | November 06, 2014 at 05:34 PM
WGK.....
Tempe just south of ASU..... everything you need!
I am half Jew! (maternal). ...... thus Jew!!!!!
Posted by: Tom G | November 06, 2014 at 05:50 PM
@Cal: you wouldn't like it here now at all. Ragweed season. When they use the term "hay fever" it really very acurate. It just makes you feel lethargic.
Posted by: wkg in bham | November 06, 2014 at 05:51 PM
@Everyone: where did this jewish thing come from? We have a substantial jewish population in Bham. To me they're just folks. I would estimate that 20% of the population here is Catholic. Again - just folks. It's no big deal. I grew up Catholic myself and had the pleasure of going to Catholic school for grades 1-6.
Posted by: wkg in bham | November 06, 2014 at 06:07 PM
The cretins on this thread have not come close to your fantasy neighborhood - Lincoln Park, Chgo, IL. I wouldn't live there myself as being a native of the city I know better than to live anywhere close to it now - but for newbies and progs, the neighborhood is all you could ask for. Check it out wkg. BTW, I always loved visiting in Birmingham. Lovely people.
Posted by: Terry Dudas | November 07, 2014 at 07:30 PM
@Terry: I'll check it out - for curiosity's sake.Couldn't imagine in my wildest dreams living in Chicago. I love the people there. I couldn;t deal with a Chicago winter.
Posted by: wkg in bham | November 07, 2014 at 11:27 PM
Dudas who U calling a Cretin?
Oh I forgot you are one of the elite U of A snobs. The town of good air and jerk professors.
I just buried my friend Chuck Bowden, a person that was onto the snobbery of Tucson elitism.
Posted by: cal Lash | November 08, 2014 at 12:03 AM
It's not just Phoenix, The Atlantic has done a lot of pieces about why many American cities declined do to changes in Federal Policies that benefit the coasts but not flyover country. One example they often use is St Louis. http://www.theatlantic.com/business/archive/2015/11/cities-economic-fates-diverge/417372/
Posted by: Brad | May 12, 2016 at 10:32 AM